Of Natural Causes
by nulli secundus
Summary: HouseChase. How do you want to die? His eyes are piercing. Chase is obsessed but he doesnt want to think about it.
1. Natural

It's been…4 years since my last ff? Well I'm back, (I've missed yhu all too much) and hopefully my writing's improved. This is my first house fic as of yet, and hope to be able to actually finish this one. (this is a chase/house fic..although I'm a huddy fanatic)

Disclaimer: I'm flattered than anyone could think that _I_ owned these characters (I don't)

- - -

All Chase wants is that stupid clock to stop moving. It's reminding him how ephemeral all life is- he can hear his heart beat softly in the background. He can feel the dull pain of bruises on his hips and the dryness in his throat from lack of food. Out of nowhere, he feels a sudden jab of pain on his left shoulder, and realizes that someone has purposely hit him with his cane.

_Three guesses for the identity of the culprit with the stick_

"How do you want to die?" House asks, his eyes are piercing.

Chase is stunned for a second, then wonders if this is a test. He almost laughs- everything is a test with _him_. House is still waiting for an answer.

_He feels as if House knows what he's been doing, or rather not._

Robert's eyes are stinging and his eyelids feel heavy form the lack of sleep, but he forces them to stay open as his superior's gaze drills into his pupils.

"…of natural causes" he finally answers- quite please with himself. It's vague enough, and it isn't a lie.

House is far from satisfied but he doesn't press further. Instead he looks beyond Chase for a moment, as if seeing something extremely interesting. Chase, of course, immediately turns back to see _nothing unusual_- and House steals his coffee. _His coffee._ Foreman and Cameron are amused- it doesn't show in their smiles, only in their eyes.

_His_ eyes are triumphant as he takes a sip and spits it out, gasping.

"Haven't you heard of a brilliant invention called _sugar?_" he questions rhetorically, his eyes still wide form the bitter caffeine. Chase reaches out to take it back, but House keeps it out of his reach.

Chase leaves the room; _he'll fall asleep without coffee if he sits around._

He returns five minutes later, to get more coffee from the machine- but it's empty and has a note tapes to the front.

_I'm banning you from coffee._

Chase admires the untidy scrawl, and puts the note in his pocket. _He's obsessed- but he doesn't want to think about it._ He realizes how stupid it is, he can always go to another lounge in the hospital for coffee.

Unfortunately, House seems to have deprived the entire hospital of coffee. Chase waits 20 minutes until his break, and heads for the parking lot. _The only good thing about owning a Mercedes is that is takes you to your coffee in style._

But when he gets in, House is sitting in the passenger's seat. _Chase doesn't even want to know how Foreman broke into his car- the salesman who said it was a 'foolproof' car is going down tomorrow._

A sigh comes escapes those pretty pink lips and he's just wondering what House wants now. "You aren't going to starbucks are you? 'cause that would be violating my ban, wouldn't it?"

Chase takes the keys out of the ignition and put them in House's raised open hand. "Good dog" he's teased. When he returns to his desk later, he finds a bone. He pockets it as well. Cameron eyes him questioningly. _He's obsessed, but he doesn't want to talk about it. _

Chase thinks it's amusing, and wonders how far House will go to keep him from his coffee. His breath hitches at the thought of House going home with him and he stops pursuing that train of thought altogether.

He gets into the car after an entire day of forcing himself to stay awake. House is still in the passengers seat. _Chase can't find the words to ask._

"What?" asks his passenger, "Cuddy can't make me do clinic duty and I'm technically still in the hospital" He's got a child-like smile on. It's so happy that Chase almost forgets he's tired and hungry.

Chase is still waiting for him to get out of his car, but House is purposely ignoring him. "Why take away my coffee?" he asks and he thinks he already knows the answer. "You wanted to die of natural causes- but you're averaging 3 pots a day. I'm granting your death wish- the way you want it"

_Chase thinks of how ironic this is. That House is more right that he even knows._

House reaches over ad inspects his sickly eyes with a flashlight that is beyond bothering his irritated retinas. _He can feel his breath and almost hear his heart. _

"When was the last time you slept?" he asks.

Chase opens to his mouth to answer but he's already been cut off.

"I'll check out the boogeymen in you closet and under your bed tonight" He says, softly- it's eerie how he does that.

Chase realizes that it's an indication to start driving to his house. _His house- he likes the way that sounds._

The firs thing Greg does when he enters is check the fridge-which is unsurprisingly empty. "When was the last time you ate?" he questions. Chase doesn't even bother to attempt to lie. In fact- he doesn't answer at all. He walks to his room- he doesn't know whether house is serious about spending the night. The bed has been made for 4 nights already; Chase hasn't been sleeping at all. _He wants to die of natural causes._

He can feel the other doctor follow him; he feels the drilling of his eyes at the back of his neck. Greg is angry. _He's shivers- he's told himself to stop calling his boss Greg subconsciously a million times- but the thought just creeps in. _House is yelling now, but chase only catches parts of it. Something about starvation and lack of sleep not being natural causes of death.

Suddenly he realizes that he's staring back into the bluest eyes he's ever noticed and that they're only a few inches apart. "Eat" is all House is saying, but Chase isn't listening. He's hypnotized- the closeness is like a drug. _He's obsessed but he doesn't want to not be._

All Chase wants is the stupid clock to stop moving. It's reminding him how ephemeral all things are and he can hear his heart softly beating in the background.

TBC…

- - -

What did you think? I was going to make this a oneshot- but I actually want more action in it. (see that little review button down there- if you press it, magic happens) I'm only joking, but reviews do make me feel appreciated .


	2. Cause

I'm so glad you liked it, and I'm sorry for keeping you all waiting.

Disclaimer: I'll own this the day my sister meets a bipolar polar bear.

NON-CAFFEINATED DRINKS ARE EVIL. (they're taking over the world I tells you- they takings the world over!)

- - -

Chase wakes up in his bed to the smell of a non-caffeinated drink. He has to blink several times as he watches his boss walk into his room with a tray. For a moment his breath hitches at the idea of what may have happened. But only for a moment.

"You-", House says pointedly "are heavy. The next time you decide to faint- do it on someone who can support himself without a cane. "Now we're going to have a little talk- and I'm using talk as a euphemism for you shutting up and listening to me yell at you."

Chase closes his gaping mouth again. _Hopes are different from dreams. His future unravels at the seams. Hope is forgotten, he has nought but dreams._

House continues, "It's extremely _rude_ to faint on someone while they're on good, healthy ramble. Healthy- you know? That thing that you aren't."

"Why the hell do you care?" Chase interrupts- he doesn't need these hopes- he has dreams. "because I get bonus points" house replies cockily, looking quite pleased with himself.

Chase understands at that moment that Cuddy can't give him clinic duty if he's taking care of the sick wombat. _I am not sick,_ Chase thinks forcibly- he's not even sure which part of him is arguing_. Liking your twisted boss is not sick._ But Chase knows that it is.

House isn't yelling. He's handed a cup the non-caffeinated drink to Chase with a glare that says 'drink it or get poked repeatedly with my cane" _Chase is trying VERY hard not to interpret the look with his biased and sick mind._

"Why don't you eat?" house is asking, watching Chase watch the swirling contents of the cup.

Chase tries humor; "Because I'm faaattt" It's his whiny interpretation of one of his ex-girlfriends. House grimaces- he isn't even going to banter today. Another question. "Why don't you sleep?"

His breath hitches for a moment. Just for a moment. "I don't like the dreams" he admits. He's almost shocked for saying so much- he must be delusional. House is waiting for him to elaborate.

Chase decides to risk the drink. House looks gleeful for a moment. It's a thick hot-chocolate, but he can taste the crushed up vitamin and protein pills. He stops sipping immediately.

House wags his finger and speaks in a pseudo-motherly tone "Now-now Bobby- you can't go out and play with the other wombats if you don't eat your vegetables." He places one long finger at the bottom of the cup and tips it up. Chase has two choices- drink up or risk the bed sheets. He decides to drink up.

He feels a lot better physically- and about the same mentally. House is positively dancing in his shoes.

Chase stares. Hard. House is wearing his shoes. "I wanted to play dress-up" Chase is confused, but it doesn't matter anymore. "Go to sleep" he's ordered. He almost cries as he sees House putting on his coat and making his way to the door. He's _leaving_. "Don't you dare drink coffee- I'll be back after that annoying superman thing I do everyday where I save people's lives. You have to tell Cuddy to give me a raise."

The door shuts. And _locks_. House took _his_ key. Chase's mind has just registered that House has gone to work- which means he has to do clinic duty. Which means House wasn't escaping it by taking care of the _poor, sick wombat._ Chase is confused- but it no longer matters. House just said he'd return at the end of the day.

His breath hitches for a moment. Just a moment.

He sleeps. He doesn't need hope, he has _dreams_.

- - -

What do you think? Please review.


	3. Lull

Chase's door opens loudly as House announces his return.

"Aaaaaaaand the progress report of the weather network says that there's a sixty percent of **Robby Bobby Chase being healthy** in the near future and we've reached our maximum high of House being happy right now. The jackpot now sits at **Chase's appetite**. You can check out the road conditions at our website at attempts to block the noise out with his flimsy pillow are futile and House comes marching into the room. "I should have been a news anchor, then I'd be even COOLER than Clark Kent. I'd do the saving the world thing and the reporting!

His humor is lost on Chase, who squints and looks up with one eye.

"Okay little Miss Muffet, time for your curds and whey" House forces a spoon of something lumpy and nutritious into his mouth. Chase almost chokes, he can't think and eat at the same time. Something is up with House, and he wonders how much it'll cost him in pride later on. He really doesn't have enough pride to pay the price. He'll take whatever memories he can get, and enjoys the spoon-feeding for a while.

He sleeps for a while afterwards, and he dreams. House is firing him. Robert wakes up thrashing, when something grips his legs and pulls. He almost falls off the bed.

House's smile is crooked and gleeful, but his eyes show concern. It's quite a menacing look. "A little insecure about your job aren't you?" Chase won't reply and House decides to tell his clinic story of the day.

"So this awful looking lady came into the clinic, she sits down and when I ask her what's wrong, just so I can eliminate those as the truth- she opens her mouth and says 'I think I have metapods'. METAPODS! I mean I know its hard to spell menopause, but this lady should be in the Guinness book of world record for being the most stupid old fart there is on this planet! Metapods… it sounds like the breeding ground of a new caterpillar."

Chase is still trying to swallow, but he almost chokes in laughter. He can't tell whether this really happened, but it doesn't really matter. House goes into the kitchen a bit to heat something up. Chase can hear the hum of the microwave. When it stops, House returns to the room with a bowl of steaming soup. It smells scary good. Chase wonders where it's from. _He's pretty sure House doesn't cook. He's spent alot of time reflecting on the stubject_.

Chase is tired of being confined to the bed. _Actually, he's just tired of wishing he wasn't alone in it, but he won't admit it. _He's tired of House fussing around like he cares- tired of thinking, tired of life.

When House asks him for the millionth third time why he's starving himself to death and not sleeping, Chase finds he can't really answer.

He doesn't have a good reason like everyone else does. He isn't coping with some huge loss, he's not had some life-changing revelation, he's not angry with the world-- Chase doesn't know if you need to have the _right_ to be tired of life, but he is anyways. For no good reason.

He doesn't want to say this, it sounds stupid enough in his head. It sounds the same way people do when they say dog's lick their own arses just because they can. Simply put, he'd rather make up a good justification- a heart-wrenching, blockbuster sort of story, but he can't think of anything at the moment, so the truth sort of tumbles out a bit.

"I'm tired". He says it quietly, thinking House will get it- will _understand_ it.

House misunderstands, thinking Chase is just closing the conversation. _It's funny. House is usually so perceptive when it comes to anything._ He's not happy.

"I hate interviews. If you die on me, I'll find a gypsy to curse your grave for me. It won't be fun."

Chase is pretty sure the talking-about-your-emotions thing should remain a female quality. _He's not sure he wants this conversation to continue at all_.

He shuts his eyes and hopes that House'll get the picture. He doesn't hear House leaving, but he doesn't really hear anything else. Certainly, he doesn't hear any more pressing questions.

Which is good, because he can't explain. He can't even breathe. He doesn't have enough pride to pay the price.

A/N: As you can tell, the story will be taking a different direction from here on (from the previous version of this chapter). The next few chappies will probably be a bit longer, but still keep the hazy sort of half-awake style of writing. I meant for this fic to be centered on feeling instead of actual plot, so I'm hoping to keep that while still getting an ending. Unfortunately, it looks like I might be leaning towards a very un-conclusional ending, just because the nature of this story is that it's more a chronicling of feeling and emotion than of actual plot substance. Next fic will be an actual story, promise.


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